


If I Could Give You The Moon On A Plate

by NerdBadger



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 20:10:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdBadger/pseuds/NerdBadger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes treats John Watson to some chocolcate cake in a coffee shop. When John and the waitress indulge in some (obvious) flirting, Sherlock decides it's time for him to tell John how he really feels...</p>
            </blockquote>





	If I Could Give You The Moon On A Plate

John licked his lips, his eyes feasting on the wondrous sight before him – a triple layer chocolate cake covered with a thick layer of frosting and whipped cream. The doctor didn't hesitate to attack it with his fork. He heard Sherlock laughing slightly. John looked up.

“Oh, stop it! Here, try a bit.” He pushed the plate towards Sherlock. It was now John's turn to laugh, as Sherlock's brow furrowed, his brain calculating away.

“Sherlock, I promise you, it hasn't been tampered with in any way, shape or form. Except for that bit there, that was my doing.” He pointed towards the ragged edge of the cake, made by his fork. Sherlock smiled and broke off a tiny piece of cake and frosting with his slender fingers. He knew John wouldn't mind. Slowly, he raised the cake to his mouth and--

“Eugh! John, that is vile! There's a reason I don't eat sweet food.”

“Well, why didn't you decline my offer? Bit of a waste of cake, if you ask me – no matter how small the piece.” John smiled, pulling his plate back towards him.

“I did it to humour you.”

John looked at Sherlock, who was staring right back at him, smiling. The doctor opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another voice.

“Is everything alright? I hope you're enjoying your cake!” The waitress stood by the table. Her left arm was raised up, her fingers playing with a few strands of auburn hair that had escaped her messy bun. She was a slender figure, with eyes wide and bright blue, fixed intently on John. A large smile stretched across John's face as he turned to speak to her.

“Oh yes, very nice. Very nice indeed.” He looked back into her blue eyes.

“I'm glad.” She leaned forward slightly. “I made sure you got the slice with the most frosting.”

“Oh, well, thank you!” John's voice shook slightly.

At this point, Sherlock tuned out. His attention turned to the wallpaper of the coffee shop. Pale green, peeling slightly at the top corner. Had been put up about five years ago. Oh, this was boring. He turned back to John, who was still flirting with the waitress. John had just complimented her on her 'lovely tan' before she was called up at the till. The waitress gave John another smile before leaving. John turned back to face Sherlock, still smiling.

“Ah, she's lovely.”

“Lovely? Really John, I'm surprised you could go for someone who is so boring!”

“What do you mean?” John leaned forward, a severe look on his face.

“Well first, you should know that tan is fake. She-”

“Call her Emily, please.”

“Fine. Emily hasn't been abroad anywhere, she certainly hasn't been sunbathing on one of our beaches – we've had rain nonstop for about six weeks. She might have visited a tanning booth, but they don't normally leave noticeable streaks on the legs, do they?” Sherlock paused, fishing out a five pound note from his pocket. He threw it onto the table, grabbed his coat and stood up.

“Come on, John, it's getting late. I'll explain everything when we get back to Baker Street.”

 

The cab was certainly uneventful. Sherlock said nothing for the entire journey. John watched him carefully – something wasn't quite right. Normally Sherlock would be staring at his phone screen, discussing matters with Lestrade via text, but the phone was nowhere to be seen. The detective was staring out of the window, his right hand brought up just below his chin. He was obviously thinking about something, but John had no idea what it could be. The moment the cab pulled up outside 221B, Sherlock jumped out and ran to the door. John sighed, paid the cab driver and carefully stepped out onto the pavement, taking his time.

Mrs Hudson met him in the hallway. Normally, this would mean the prospect of tea, but instead her hand reached out and touched John's arm.

“Keep an eye on Sherlock; I'm a bit worried about him. He's not normally this quiet when he comes home.” Concern burned in Mrs Hudson's eyes and John smiled.

“I know. Don't worry, I'll look after him. Go and make yourself a cup of tea, Mrs Hudson.” He patted her hand and then slowly climbed the stairs.

The door was closed. John slowly opened it.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock was standing in front of the mantelpiece, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. His coat had been abandoned in the middle of the floor. The detective turned to face John. A slight smile danced upon his lips as he spoke.

“She can't give you what I can, John.”

John's lips parted but no words came out. He stayed by the door, not quite sure what was happening. Sherlock decided it would be a good time to continue. He took a deep breath.

“John, I told you that Emily was boring. That was true. Not because I don't like her!” He added hastily, as John's eyes rolled. “She's boring because she hasn't been anywhere, she hasn't seen anything. You have. In Afghanistan, no matter how terrifying it was, you had adventure and excitement in your grasp. You saw things, John.” Sherlock sighed in frustration and began pacing on the rug.

“I'm no good at this. It's one of the few things I don't understand, emotion. Look, John. I might not be the most good looking person in London. I'm unfair, selfish and a complete arse to live with. No don't stop me, I have to get this out.” He stopped John who had parted his lips again. Sherlock slowly walked towards John, his breath uneasy.

“Doctor Watson.” He whispered, his body about a foot away from John's. “I don't have everything. If I could give you the moon on a plate, I would. But I can't. But what I can give you is adventure, an exciting life. When we both grow old, I want you to be able to look back and reminisce about your life. Our life. John, you're my partner in crime.” Sherlock took John's hands in his.

“I love you, Doctor Watson.”


End file.
